


Sometimes

by Mikazuki_Mitsukai



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bruce was only mentioned, Gen, Hurt!Tim Drake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 12:55:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13881315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikazuki_Mitsukai/pseuds/Mikazuki_Mitsukai
Summary: Sometimes, Alfred was convinced Tim was trying to kill himself.





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> The Alfred & Tim fic no one wanted nor asked.
> 
> I'm so sorry. It's 3 am and I don't know what I'm doing. Don't know why I'm still awake either....

Sometimes, Alfred was convinced Tim was trying to kill himself. The thought came to him usually after some hare brained heroism slash passive suicide attempts that resulted in broken bones in more than one place, bleeding gashes that needed so many stitches the young man looked like he was trying to be Frankenstein for Halloween, bullet wounds too close for comfort to vital organs, and neglected health which resulted in more than several almost-sepsis and, most recently, a dive into a freezing, polluted Gotham pool. The pneumonia was terrible and lasted for a month. The Joker was beaten quite viciously that day. Bruce drove Tim to the hospital himself at day 4, after expressing his fear on the potential of collapsing lungs. Tim was discharged just two days ago, under orders of strict bed rest. Alfred was torn between smothering the boy with warm blankets and whacking him upside the head.

He feared one day Tim would succeed in killing himself, intentionally or otherwise.

In the most non-heroic way possible.

A content sigh slipped between Tim’s chapped lips, now slightly moisturized by the warm liquid he just sipped. Normally, anything that made Tim look just a little bit less stressed out would be welcomed with open arms, but this is Tim’s fifth coffe in 12 hours. From that unnecessarily tall coffe glass that could contain up to 800cc of liquid.

As Alfred’s second favorite (because Cassandra is first and Bruce is third), the whack at the back of the head that was too big a temptation to resist was lighter than it could be. It still earned the butler a surprised yelp, though, and almost made Tim spilt his coffee on the pristine white upholstery Alfred had only an hour ago cleaned. He’s had enough of Tim trying to dissolve his stomach into that acidic beverage that’s as bitter as the darkest depth of hell, but if a drop managed to fall to the newly cleaned sofa, he might actually kill the boy himself instead of letting the tar-like substance do the deed.

The newly stolen still-more-empty-than-full glass in hand, Alfred made his way to the kitchen in silence. Timothy knew better than to question why he had just received the butler’s equivalent to coffee-parental-lockdown.

Ten minutes later, After peeked into the study to catch his third grandson hide a travel mug, almost 0.000001 second to late to miss the guilty act.

Sometimes, Alfred was convinced Tim was trying to kill himself. Other times, Alfred was convinced Tim was trying to make others kill him.

“TIMOTHY!”


End file.
